


Above us only sky

by Redrocketeer



Series: Above us only sky [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: But there will be hope, Gen, Grief/Mourning, spoilers for end of game, starts off sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrocketeer/pseuds/Redrocketeer
Summary: Noctis has done his duty but what place can his grieving Glaive find in a world without need of a kingsguard?  A world without monsters?  A world without kings?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I plan for this to jump around a lot less as it goes on. Most of the first chapter is scene-setting.

No one was quite sure which happened first, the stretch of Gladio’s fingers coming up empty as he called his weapon back to him or the gasp to his right as Ignis felt the last of his borrowed light leave him. They only knew the silence lasted just a moment before it was broken by an anguished cry to their left and the sharp slap of Prompto’s knees hitting the cold stone, taking the last of their hope with them.

No one said the two words that clattered around their heads, not aloud. There was no need. Gladio moved to stand by the crumpled figure, squeezing Prompto’s shoulder because he didn’t trust his voice.  
Ignis’ own shoulders slumped forwards as his resolve, too, was exhausted.

He felt the faint warmth on his face, the measure of Noctis’ success and their failure, bought with the blood of their King. He made a bitter little sound. They were all Noctis’ Shields but he’d taken the blow anyway.  
Gladio raised his gaze to the horizon, watching the colour return to the sky and feeling it was for everyone but them. He didn't want to see it.  
Prompto let out a heated cry to the sun and threw his gun into the empty courtyard. The sound of its skittering bounced off the walls of the palace and back to them.

“He needs a place to rest,” Ignis breathed softly, voice tight as he fought for control.  
“Then we make him one. The finest this world has ever seen.” The biggest Shield gripped Prompto’s arm and drew him to his feet. “C’mon, big guy, he still needs us,” Gladio said to the smallest, ignoring blood dripping through Prompto’s dirty blond hair, cutting through the grime on his face. Most of it wasn’t his.  
He offered his arm to Ignis, kept his other on Prompto, half holding him up, as he guided them both up the stairs, losing count of how many times they had to stop and find enough strength for their legs to work again. 

The sun was behind them, out of sight again. They didn’t care.

***  
No one slept that first night. After ten years no one trusted the sun to come back up. What if it had been a fluke? What if that was how it was now? Ten years down, one day up? People sat in deck chairs, guns on their laps, in case the daemons took the opportunity to return. 

Noctis lay in his old room, carefully wrapped in white sheets and yellow flowers. They’d taken their time in washing him, laying him gently down to rest. Prompto set a chair by his head and sat guard, leaning in close. He hadn’t let Gladio cover his best friend’s face. He imagined him waking, moving in those familiar ways. “You always did like to sleep, huh Noct?” he said gently, his voice cracking.

Ignis had been unable to touch Noctis since he started to go cold repeating, “He’s not here. He’s not here,” until all three of them had broken down. Helpless, all Gladio could think to do was close his arms around his brothers and hold them to him, giving his warmth because it was the only warmth he had to give them.

***

It was only on that second morning the first cautious celebrations began.

Gladio drove by a group of children waving mirrors over their heads, catching the sunlight and making it dance on the ground. They’d never seen anything like it, stepped on it, trying to catch it. At another time it may have made him smile. He only turned off the main road and headed up a shallow incline, trees growing closer and closer on either side until they almost locked together. He stopped before the only path and got out of the car, heading up the path until he got to a clearing, fair and cool in the morning sun. He sat on a rock and pulled out a notebook, sketching over the lined paper.

***

“He’ll get cold… won’t he get cold?” Prompto asked and Ignis jaw tensed in worry before he could hide it.  
“He won’t,” the former advisor said with forced confidence. “Shiva would never let him.”  
Prompto nodded at that, seeing nothing ironic in the answer or the assurance it gave him.

They still had their work to do, for the King, because of their King. They were his hands now, his voice. They’d never rule but they’d see to it Noctis legacy wasn’t silenced. After ten years, though, it was feeling like a lonely job.

***  
They carried the stones themselves, not knowing who else to call on. People had their own lives to rebuild as they shook off the darkness. Building a tomb seemed of the lowest importance but they couldn't leave it undone. There’d been hope in those early days of darkness, hope in the King as word had gotten around. The King in the Crystal. The King would return, set it right, said the stories. It didn’t matter that most folks didn’t even know his face. They’d invoke his name into the darkness all the same. Iris and Talcott spoke loudest of all, telling anyone who would listen, but after months became years and years became a decade people were giving up on hopeful stories. 

Only with the arrival of the sun there came a new story, of an unseen king, coming back to slay the dragon, giving them back their light if not their Line of Lucis. This king had come but for a day and was taken out in his quest but people made whispers of the palace in the ruined city. A few came to see but he wasn’t there. He’d never be there again.

He was riding across the countryside, under the cover of a quiet night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has done his duty but what place can his grieving Glaive find in a world without need of a kingsguard? A world without monsters? A world without kings?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's raw and sad and no one is really dealing but, you know, how could they be cool about this turn of events? We sure weren't.

There was no need so set a watch despite the lack of protective runes. No daemons were going to climb out of the ground, no MTs were about to rain from the sky, clattering towards them with their unnatural movements and too-young metal faces but the habit was too strong not to attend to it. The clearing that Gladio had found was quiet, set back from the road. Very little sound travelled back to the three who could hear and the one who would not.

A tent was not a fit resting place for a king, and certainly not _that_ king, their king, but it would do for now. Somewhere along the way they’d obtained a second tent. It had too much room in it so they’d filled it up with playing cards and extra bedding and the few clothes they had left. They made attempts to sleep in between the small piles of belongings. 

Prompto took the first watch, on the cool ground outside the first tent. He’d said about twelve words for the whole day and they’d been difficult to get out. Everything seemed too loud just because he knew it would never be loud enough for Noctis to hear. Everything echoed.

He had a magazine with him, ostensibly to pass the time, but he only read the same line over and over before putting it aside. He took to watching Ignis and Gladio, sitting on opposite sides of the fire. One of them occasionally spoke, nearly always Gladio, but he couldn’t hear what was said. Looking at their faces he really didn’t need to.

After a new more minutes Prompto got to his feet and let himself into the tent. 

***  
Ignis sighed at the sound of the tent zipper just as Gladio growled softly, “He’s going in again.” Ignis couldn’t say he was surprised. The only reason he wasn’t in there himself was because he wouldn’t touch and couldn’t see. He could only smell death under the spice and perfume and it turned his stomach.

“You should keep an eye on him,” Ignis said tightly, the longest sentence he'd spoken all day. When Gladio hesitated he added, “I’m fine.” His voice was firm. It didn’t matter that it was a lie. None of them was fine. That didn’t matter either. Attention had to go to the greatest immediate need. 

Gladio managed by watching over the others, hardly more than a few feet from one or the other unless he had no choice. It allowed him to hold up, for the moment. Busy. Needed. Taking Ignis' place. He got to his feet and crossed to the tent where Noct rested and Prompto did not.

“Hey, buddy,” Gladio said with more gentleness that was usual from the big man. “Do you want to come and help me fix something to eat?” He tried to keep his eyes on Prompto but failed, swallowing hard.  
Prompto knelt on the floor of the tent next to Noctis. His hand rested on his best friend’s arm, patting lightly as if to reassure. He didn’t look up or react at all to Gladio’s presence at first. The former shield opened his mouth to repeat himself when Prompto finally spoke. 

“He doesn’t know this place. It shouldn’t be here.” There was a broken little crack in his voice but he fought it down, kept going. “It can’t be here,” the blond insisted, biting his lip to hold it steady. It was clear from the set of his shoulders he was expecting a fight. When Gladio sighed and knelt down beside him he flinched slightly. Gladio ignored it and kept his voice soft. 

“Alright,” he said, “We need to do this right. What’s right, Prompto? Where should he be?”

Prompto’s surprise was enough to drag his attention away from his lost friend. He had grown, he’d become a strong fighter in his own right, but he never had any royal authority. He had deferred to the others until it simply stopped being a relevant rank to hold but, suddenly, it seems crushingly vital. They weren’t hunters any more, they were the Kingsglaive and their king had called him back into service. Still, Prompto shook his head. Such a call surely wasn’t his to make. What about Noctis’ people? What about his family? Weren’t there rules? They couldn’t just put a King of Lucis anywhere, could they?  
“I don’t know,” he said tightly. “Just… not here.”

Gladio nodded. “We still need that help with dinner. Come on. He’ll wait for us to eat.” Gladio rested a hand briefly on Prompto’s shoulder as he got to his feet. None of them felt hungry, their bellies always feeling unpleasantly full of nothing but they forced themselves to eat for the strength they were going to need.

***  
It was really Ignis’ turn to cook. He was perfectly capable of it, all things being equal, but things were not equal. Under another circumstance Gladio may have pushed Ignis into service anyway, for his own good, but he was, for only the second time in their lives, afraid his friend might snap from the pressure. Ignis had always been a little stiffer than most but now he was almost silent, lost in thought or, worse, feelings, only speaking when it was utterly necessary. He looked out for them all in only the vaguest terms but he barely moved from his spot by the fire.

Gladio was not useful to being careful around his friends, he was not used to their blank stares or their opposition to each other. Prompto couldn’t leave the king alone, Ignis couldn’t go near him, and Gladio in the middle who had to be the force to keep them going because there was no one else to hand the task off to. There was no dropping his bundle or they were all screwed, Gladio reasoned as he dropped tomatoes into the simple stew he was throwing together. He gave little thought for taste. It wasn’t going to be enjoyed however carefully it was constructed so what did it matter?

Hanging over their heads was the knowledge they were missing the mark. The deep pull towards service that had underscored their lives hadn’t gone anywhere, they were simply too raw to take up the mantle. The ripples of guilt that came with their indulgence only added to their discomfort. The weight of the world was still on their shoulders, wasn’t it? Or was their time over, were they to vanish from history? Live out quiet years until they were done or remind the world of the price paid for them.

Gladio pressed a bowl into Ignis’ hand. “Eat,” he commanded and Ignis obeyed wordlessly, eyes fixed ahead, as always, on nothing though Gladio suspect that even if Ignis could see he’d still have the same set to him.

“Here,” he said to Prompto, offering him the second bowl. The blond took the meal with a small “thank you,” firelight highlighting the smear of dirt across his cheeks. Gladio took up his position on the flattened stone he’d chosen as a seat. The unspiced food was bland and easy to eat. Gladio would have given about anything to hear Ignis complain about it but the former advisor ate in silence. He was almost halfway through his bowl when Prompto spoke up. “Have you said anything to Iris yet?”

Gladio’s head turned to Prompto sharply. It was an important question and the first time one of them had turned their eyes outside their shaken little circle, at least aloud.  
“Can’t tell her any other way but face to face,” Gladio said with shake of his head.  
“She’d already know. You know that right?” Prompto said, a little steel in his voice.  
“‘Course I know!” Gladio said just as harshly as intended. He caught Ignis flinch out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t care. The frustrations of the week were starting to creep out from under the lid he’d put on them and way too soon. Hadn’t be been extra considerate of Prompto? Was that any way to repay him? Things that were acceptable, even heartwarming, an hour ago were suddenly barbs. 

Prompto almost felt bad but he pushed back too, few soft edges left. “I know I can’t talk. I _know_ but she’s one of us. Cindy too. Talcott. He’d want them to…”  
“YOU’RE NOT HIS VOICE!” He’d been considerate. He’d given leeway. He’d made allowances for the close bond their marksman shared with the king but Gladio’s last few nerves were starting to unravel just as fast as he tried to reel them in. Iris. How could he hold her up too? How much grief could he face? And Prompto was pushing him to take on more like it was nothing. A moment later he gave up the fight. He rose to his feet, bowl tossed aside, a stream of red gravy splashing on the damp grass.

“YOU DON’T SPEAK FOR HIM. You never did. None of us do. He doesn’t have a voice and, if he did, it wouldn’t be you! It wouldn’t be any of us. We’re servants, Prompto. Failed servants. Failed soldiers. Decent hunters with nothing to hunt. If this is what we were born to do then fuck it. Guess we did what the job called for. Guess it’s over now. We’re done. We’re done.” Gladio struggled to breathe around the great ball in the centre of his chest that outstripped his heart and half his lungs in size. When he did breathe it was a jagged sound, out of time, a sob he fought to hold in but it was too late, he was already betrayed. _I guess we're all screwed._

Prompto stayed silent, took the wave of fury rooted to the spot. He had no conscious thought that Gladio was just fulfilling a need, the same one they all had. He simply rode it out with hardly an ounce of fear. Gladio might have even been right but Prompto wasn’t willing to let things sit. He hoped like hell he wasn’t alone there.

His eyes shifted past Gladio as the big man started to calm, then he swore. 

“Where’s Ignis?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has done his duty but what place can his grieving Glaive find in a world without need of a kingsguard? A world without monsters? A world without kings?
> 
> Can they stop hurting long enough to ensure a fitting legacy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE.
> 
> The plot bunnies wouldn't align but things are back on track now <3 I hope you enjoy.

Ignis tried hard not to fiddle too much with the sleeve of his shirt but he found it was the only thing that made him feel slightly less anxious. He shoved his hands behind his back so at least his fussing would be less obvious. 

There was a comfortable looking sofa he’d been offered to sit on but Ignis hadn’t wanted to be caught napping, it was too important a meeting. At six, Ignis had just been hand picked for special service to the Crown. Over the previous six months he’d noticed the focus of his schooling had shifted a little. He’d been offered geography and a history of the royal family as well as his usual intensive literacy and numeracy training. He enjoyed the work but it had made him curious. When he was eventually told why, he was given a choice. He could turn down the offer if he wanted. It was a commitment for life and he was to think very hard about it but it wasn't an order. A lifetime seemed impossibly long Ignis but he knew he wanted to find a purpose and he knew he would likely end up in some kind of Royal Service as most in his family did. The roll he was offered was the most important a Scientia could hold, a great opportunity that carried honour. He’d be taught all he needed to know, he just had to decide if he wanted to.

He hadn’t taken more than a minute to make up his mind. 

That had been the easy part. Now he was to meet the boy who would be his king and commander, eventually, but his friend and companion for now. Ignis only hoped that the boy was kind.

He stood to attention as voices approached. He knew he was to meet the king, too, and had practiced the proper deference. He was not to bow to Noctis, not until Noctis took up official functions, the to the king he must. He’d listened very carefully to the instructions his uncle had given him. It didn’t matter that the prince was only four. He was the prince, and the King would be with him, and Ignis wanted to make a good impression.

“Relax, Ignis. The king is very kind. You’re only to make a friend today.” His uncle placed a reassuring hand on Ignis’ shoulder. The elder Scientia couldn’t match his nephew’s intensity but he figured that was as well. There was a little too much tension in the boy, at times, and Ignis’ guardian saw countering this tension as an important part of his job.

“What if the king doesn’t find me suitable?” Ignis asked softly, staring at the door.  
“That is not possible, Ignis, your selection came directly from the king himself. He already approves of you.”  
“Oh,” Ignis said, not really relaxing and wondering it must be a special skill, gifted to kings, to know the value of people you'd yet to meet. He was sure it was a useful skill.  
“It’s alright, Ignis. It’s going to be fine,” he uncle promised softly just as the door opened. Ignis resisted the temptation to hide behind his uncle’s leg.

King Regis entered first, after asking his shield to wait outside the room. A small, black-haired boy, walked beside the king, hand in hand. The boy had a mess of hair and a shy smile which he turned on Ignis.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Ignis Uncle said with a half-bow. “This is Ignis.”  
Ignis cast his eyes to the floor and imitated his uncle’s address to the king but remembered his instructions regarding the prince and straightened up. “Noctis,” he said in greeting.  
His relief he’d past the first test didn’t last long when the king knelt before him, meeting his eye. It wasn’t an easy thing, to look into the eyes of a king. Ignis thought they were, indeed, kind eyes but it took all his will not to look away in case he give up some weakness he wasn’t aware of.

“Ignis, it’s wonderful to meet you finally. Your tutors tell me you have excelled in your studies and in your dedication to them. Noctis has been very excited to meet you, too. We are both very glad you accepted our offer.”

The boy blushed at the praise but held firm. “I am honoured for the chance,” he said and that seemed to please Regis very much because he reached out and ruffled Ignis’ hair. 

“Why don’t you boys go and enjoy a game while us adults talk business,” the king said, turning to his son who was already extending a hand to his new advisor. “Come on, Ignis. I’ll show you my car,” the little prince said brightly.  
“You have a car?” Ignis asked, sounding impressed.  
“Yeah. I got it for my birthday. It’s just like Dad’s!”  
“Where can you drive?”  
“All around the Citadel. You can have a go if you want.”  
Ignis didn’t have time to be nervous after that. The prince was his friend and that was that.

***  
 _[Present day]_

Ignis had learned to navigate through sound and touch. It wasn’t as exact as he preferred over longer distances and unfamiliar terrain but he’d adjusted to occasionally needing help or waiting for more information to find where he was going. Now he was making no attempts to navigate as he pushed his way through the trees. He only knew they were trees by the way they smacked and scratched against his face and arms. They didn’t slow him. He didn’t care about protecting his skin. 

His movements were rangy, dishevelled. He travelled faster than he could process, the point just to _move._ His breathing was noisy and tight, his fight for control one he was losing but the longer it went on the less he cared until his voice rose to an agonised wail, then fell silent as his knees hit the hard dirt.

He didn’t know how far he’d gone, or where his brothers were. Only one realisation washed over him as he lost his meager dinner onto the forest floor.

***

There were few real threats left in the dark any more but that didn’t mean Gladio felt any comfort from that as he scanned the clearing. “See if he’s with Noct,” he commanded Prompto and the blond didn’t argue. Unlike Ignis he passed in and out of that tent many times over the day and he wasn’t surprised to find it only occupied by his late king this time too. He shook his head as he emerged a moment later.

“ _Dammit,_ ” Gladio cursed. Had Ignis had his sight they could’ve left him to run off steam but Gladio couldn’t bring himself just let the blind man stumble about in a place none of them had been for ten years. As usual his worry made him tetchy.   
“What the hell was he thinking?”

“You _know_ what he was thinking,” Prompto challenged softly. “You were thinking it too. Shouting about it, actually.”

Gladio could feel his heat rising, his first instinct to go on the defensive strong, but things were different with their king’s last order hanging over them. Yet here they were crawling in the dirt. Gladio allowed Noctis to pull on his reins. He let out a heavy sigh. “He probably won’t have made a neat job of it,” Gladio reasoned, his voice level. “Look for broken branches. We follow that trail.”

Prompto, grateful Gladio chose the reasonable path, crossed to the side of the clearing furthest from where they’d been standing and began searching for disruption.

***  
Ignis coughed roughly, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. He hardly cared about his dignity, only the immediate misery of the pain in his throat and the chilling realisation in his mind. He had no idea what he was to do with that as his agitated breathing filled his ears. He stayed on his hands and knees, shaking in the cold air, waiting for his mind to return to order but the only thing that got through to him was the snapping of a branch to his left.

‘Who’s there?” he called out, trying to sound commanding. He went for his daggers a moment before he remembered he’d foolishly left them at the camp.  
“Don’t come any closer!” he ordered, slowly backing away from the sound on all fours.

He cried out in shock as something hard and pointed collided with his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has done his duty but what place can his grieving Glaive find in a world without need of a kingsguard? A world without monsters? A world without kings?
> 
> Where the chocobros figure out more than they ever wanted to know.

Prompto walked in the space Gladio cleared for him. The shield had developed into a master tracker and was confident in his path. Prompto was just grateful to follow. He hadn’t felt right about leaving Noctis alone but there was no way to bring him and no way that Prompto was going to leave Ignis lost in the unfamiliar place. He’d quickly twisted a length of cord in and out of the zipper pulls on the tent so nothing could force its way in and followed Gladio towards the South-West.

The big man’s shoulders shifted harshly against the close branches, flicking them aside in irritation. Gladio’s worry for Ingis was just another thing to shorten his temper. The air was taut around him and it made Prompto reluctant to speak, not because he was afraid Gladio would hurt him, but because he didn’t want to deal with the shouting.

Lost in his own worries he almost smacked into Gladio’s back as the shield dropped his knee to the ground before him. “Whoa!” he said involuntarily, waiting for Gladio to bristle but the other man only made a thoughtful sound deep in his throat.  
“Someone came through here, very recently. Bi-ped. About six foot… draw your gun, just in case,” Gladio said. Prompto picked up a slight softening of his tone, as if in apology.  
“Stay close,” he added though Prompto had no desire to do anything else. After ten years of horror at every turn he hadn’t yet come to trust the darkness again, proficiency never translating to comfort.

As they set off again Prompto’s gaze returned to the corded muscle of Gladio’s back, held tight. Prompto figured it was quite a burden for a shield, out-living his king. It was written out all over Gladio’s body, but he didn’t say so. There was no need. In silence they turned to the South.

***  
_[Crown City, 15 years before]_

“Why are you nervous? It’s just my bodyguard. He’s not gonna do anything to you.”  
“You don’t know that, dude. What if I, like, fall over in your general direction and he thinks I’m attacking you?”  
“... Have you been drinking?”  
“Look, I’ve just never been around a bodyguard before. I don’t know how it works.”  
“How it works is if I say you’re okay, you’re okay. Just relax. You were wrong about Ignis. This is the same.”  
“Ignis was nice. A little stiff… but nice. I don’t buy he’s only 17 though.”  
Noctis chuckled. “If I haven’t known him since he was 6 I wouldn’t either. Here comes Gladio.”

Prompto looked up, and just kept on looking up. The boy was still fairly narrow but about the tallest person Prompto had ever seen, towering over even Ignis. Prompto decided that if he was going to design a bodyguard he’d start about there.

As Prompto stared up, Gladio stared down, an amused smirk on his face. “So, you must be Prompto. Good to finally meet ya. The prince has been on about you for some time. Glad to see he didn’t make you up.”

“Ah, ahhh,” Prompto stammered back, not even sure what to say to that. Gladio just chuckled.  
“Be nice or I’ll make up a bus to run you over,” Noctis threatened with a hard grin.

The evening went pretty smoothly for the most part. Gladio had, indeed, turned out to be friendly and pretty laid back. He was more of a friend than an employee, at least right up until the moment he was called into action.

“Noct, you _really_ need to play more Soul of Discontent. I need a challenge!”  
“His Highness must have been too busy with his schoolwork,” Gladio said sarcastically. “That right, Noct?”  
“Nah. I was too busy telling your dad where you were Tuesday night.”  
Prompto turned to face his companions in time to see Gladio give Noctis a harmless shove. It was really the opposite of what Prompto expected a security guard to be doing but Prompto found it made him feel less anxious about the older teen.

Prompto walked down the quiet street backwards, feeling safe around the other two, distracted by his relief and delight. He was new to having friends but he was started to really like it.

“Hey, maybe we can pick up a pizza on the way- oof!”  
Gladio’s big hand closed around his wrist and tugged him towards him- no- behind him. He moved between Noctis and figure in dark clothes, hovering in the shadows, hand up before his body in an awkward fashion. It took Prompto a moment to work out what he was holding.

“Can I help you?” Gladio said in fake casualness. 

“You look like you got some money. Expensive clothes trying to look cheap. Only people with money dress like that.” The man mightn’t have looked much but there was a sharp edge to his voice and to his reason. It made Gladio cautious and Prompto take a step closer to Noctis.

“That right, huh? Sorry, bud, but I’m not an ATM. I’m gonna give you a chance to walk away. Suggest you take it.”  
Prompto could tell from Gladio’s tone it was one more chance that he wanted to give but guessed he was probably trying to keep trouble away from the prince.

The figure chuckled, looking completely unphased. “Thank you for your consideration but I didn’t come here to leave empty handed. I never go anywhere with that expectation.” The stranger tried to force his rough accent around cultured speech but only ended up sounding like he’d stolen his own words too.

“No one does,” Gladio shrugged, “but they leave disappointed anyway.” The young shield raised his fists and made sure he left no gap that might lead directly to his charges.

It wasn’t even much of a fight. Prompto automatically moved between Noctis and Gladio but even he was never under threat. The sharp mugger had made the typical mistake of underestimating Gladio because he was young and casually dressed. Prompto couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed even as he bumped against Noctis who wisely held his tongue.  
“This happen often?” Prompto asked him softly, unwilling to distract Gladio.  
“A few times a year,” Noctis shrugged. “Not always like this. Sometimes they know who I am. One almost got me into a car once. Why’d you think I don’t come here at night without Gladio?”

Prompto looked up at the sound of skin smacking bone in time to wince in automatic sympathy. The sharp man went down like a sack.  
“Your dad’s orders?”  
“Pretty much,” Noctis said as they both looked down on the prone figure. Prompto’s heart was racing but Noctis only came across as bored, as if he was waiting for the light’s to change rather than watching his bodyguard drag a would-be attacker off the road.

“You guys alright?” Gladio asked, looking at them both with close concern.  
“Fine,” Noctis said. “Can we go?”  
Gladio’s gaze lingered a moment on Prompto, clearly affected but apparently unhurt.  
“Need to call the marshall about this. Stay where I can see you.” His finger swung to take them both in.

That first night it wasn’t Gladio’s strength or Noctis’ nonchalance that struck him. It was the fact that Gladio had treated him like an extension of Noctis, someone to be protected too. It made him feel… important, like he had a bodyguard too, or better, a friend. It was something Prompto had felt only once before but he was never going to forget how good it felt to be included, to be pulled out of harm’s way.

***  
_[Present day]_

Gladio’s back still filled most of Prompto’s vision. The blond just waited for the announcement they had found their friend or needed to turn back and try another path. He kept his ears sharp, though, and his vigilance was returned with a snapping sound and a deep thud that didn’t match their step. It gave him a moment’s warning that Gladio was about to run and Prompto followed, heart thudding in his throat.

The strong smell of blood hit Prompto’s passages the moment before he emerged from behind Gladio’s form.  
“Ignis,” he breathed out, pulling up short to take in the sight of his friend, sitting on the ground, arm buried in the torn throat of a spiracorn. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down the sides Ignis’ face, over his billowing cheeks, blown outwards by his savage breathing. His eyes were hidden, impossible to read, but everything in his manner hinted at desperate madness.

“Iggy,” Gladio said levelly, dropping to his knee before his friend. “Iggy it's me. It's just us. Prompto is here too.”  
“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto tried to keep the fear from his voice and almost succeeded. He didn’t kneel, the blood soaking the grass put him off and he wasn’t yet sure Ignis wasn’t about to bolt. There was little that was measured about the man now, his hair was dishevelled, his face smeared with blood and soil. It was clear he’d suffered a blow to his head but it was impossible to tell what else.

Prompto watched Ignis hand shake as he pulled it from the beast’s still-warm body, his face turned to Gladio.  
“Iggy, what happened here?” Gladio’s voice was gentle, clearly worried, too, about spooking the man. Iggy had slid into a place neither of them had seen him before and they had little idea how to bring him back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ignis snapped, his voice raw and rougher than Gladio’s. “I was unarmed. It came at me. All I had was my hands so I used them.”  
They all knew Ignis was stronger than he looked but that was a berserker move. Maybe, just, with his body flooded with adrenaline he could manage it but the result was feral, sloppy, everything Ignis wasn’t.

“Dammit, Iggy,” Gladio said softly. He shook his head. “You’re hurt. Let’s get you back to the camp. Clean you up. There’s a creek.”  
Ignis clearly tensed against the suggestion, fingers gripping the spiracorn’s fur in a desperate attempt to steady himself but that was never going to be enough.

Prompto’s eyes flickered between the two men, drinking in their tension unwilling, feeling it settle in his own belly like an unwelcome serpent, curling coldly around his insides. He was aching to defuse it. “Come in, Ignis, it’s not far to camp.”  
Prompto could see Ignis weighing up their words, most of his attention going to Gladio. Eventually the rigidity started to fade from Ignis’ shoulders. He uselessly wiped a stained hand on his dark pants, something else Prompto had never seen him do.

“Why?” Ignis said simply.  
“Why what?” Prompto said, in genuine confusion.  
“Why come back to camp? What will it achieve? What will it do? Should we fight some more? Should we ruin our appetites? Should we drag the king around the countryside in death as he was dragged around in life?” Ignis’ tone was careful, surgical, full of knives. Gladio lifted his head..  
“Look… I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that.”  
“No, you shouldn’t.” Ignis’ words were delivered with such care, rounded, cultivated by cold reason. “Especially as you were wrong.”  
Prompto could hear something brittle in Ignis’ voice but it wasn’t enough to stop Gladio snorting. “You wanna tell me how we didn’t fail him? ‘Cause I’d like to hear that and I’m not even jokin’”

Ignis dropped his chin a little, making him look depleted as he sat in the sea of torn flesh and bone, only a bitter little snort of his own bringing life to his features. “We did everything we were meant to do,” Ignis began, voice tight as a drum.  
“The lamb was brought forward to be sacrificed. The king who never was.”

Gladio frowned, ready to fight this new idea he didn’t like as much as he was ready to fight for Ignis’ slipping sanity. “He was ki-”  
“Did you ever wonder?” Ignis spoke over the top of Gladio, crisp and commanding. “Why His Majesty never trained Noctis for leadership himself? I always thought it was because he was too busy with the treaty, with the refugee crisis. I always thought it was because he was content to delegate to me but that wasn’t it at all. Oh we were the _perfect_ servants,” Ignis spat. “Everything we did, whatever we did, was to prepare him for _slaughter_. They let me… they let _us_ throw our lives away when all he needed was a _reason_ to take on that final burden.”

Ignis raised his head to where he thought Gladio was. “You, his shield, were never meant to save him,” he said, voice scratching against the back of his throat. “You were only meant to keep him alive long enough to die in the right place.”

Ignis turned his head to the last place he’d heard Prompto, his voice softening. “And you… you weren’t part of the plan at all. You… were better motivation than anything they could have come up with. You are proof they couldn’t control everything, only almost. More than enough, as it turns out.” The bitter edge returned to Ignis’ voice. His lip curled up at one corner.

“They always told me how clever I was, how wise for my age. I was a blind fool then.” He lifted his head to meet the horizon. “ _Now_ I see.”

Prompto and Gladio breathed, ready to speak, searching for the words. They wanted to contradict, they wanted to prove Ignis wrong, but there was no flaw in his logic to give them an in. There was no evidence to counter with. 

_”Fuck,”_ Gladio breathed softly.  
“That is exactly what has been done to us. To Noct.” Ignis’ fire turned to fatigue once his point was made. He rubbed at his face, lowered his forehead into his palm. Gladio took that as his cue to approach, motioning Prompto forward. They froze a moment later when all of Ignis’ agony burst from his body in the form of a cry, bending his body double in its intensity. “We gave him to them!” he screamed. “We handed him over like a gift. We… we…” His voice gave out, his breathing drowning it out. 

Gladio glanced at Prompto in time to see him drag his wrist across his eyes. They’d fallen again, like they had on that first day, only now it wasn’t blind grief. How it was something much worse. Gladio only knew one thing to do.

He closed his arms around Ignis from behind, drew him carefully too his feet. “Gotta keep moving,” he growled, deciding. He didn’t know if it changed a damn thing but at least it was _their_ plan now. Nothing called them on but what their King had charged them to do.

“We’re on Noct’s dime now,” he said gently. “Come on. Walk. You too Prompto. Let’s go.”  
More puppet than man Ignis’ stepped in the direction of the camp. Prompto spared a glance for the mess behind them before following. He was sure he heard Gladio mutter under his breath,” _Still a fucking shield._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has done his duty but what place can his grieving Glaive find in a world without need of a kingsguard? A world without monsters? A world without kings?
> 
> This chapter, a little turning of corners.

“I’m just gonna take off your glasses. There, it’s not so bad. Head wounds always bleed like a bastard. Feel dizzy at all?”  
“A little,” Ignis said. He sounded exhausted though Gladio didn’t consider his fatigue was only physical. Shaken by Ignis’ own breakdown, kicked off by his own, Gladio wrestled his emotions back under careful control. Yeah it hurt. It hurt like nothing else he’d ever experienced but he was still _needed_ and screaming only made things worse. He could see Prompto hovering nervously to one side, worried about Ignis but so much more than that.

“Prompto, why don’t you go check on Noct? I’ve got things here.” Gladio’s tone was even, almost gentle. He knew he owed an apology but it wasn’t the time to give it.  
“Sure,” Prompto said, forcing cheer into his voice. “I’ll be back soon.”  
Gladio spared the younger man a glance before returning his attention to Ignis. “I don’t have anything to tape this with. Hang on a moment…” Gladio pulled up his vest and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. Ignis flinched at the ripping sound, loud in the silent grove. 

“S’ok, just making you a bandage,” he reassured, efficient and effective so Ignis didn’t have to be. He made a small pad with a piece of the fabric and bound the rest around his best friend’s head, avoiding his eyes even though there was no need to.

He’d been thinking a lot of Ignis’ words, on the way back to their miserable camp. Uncomfortable thoughts rose up, about what his father knew, about what thinking was really behind the decision to keep them in the dark. All he could think of that made sense was Regis had done everything he could to get Noct out of it but just… couldn’t. He couldn’t believe for a moment the king would sell his own beloved son down the river. The three of them, maybe, if it was for the greater good but Noct? He wanted to tap into Ignis’ big brain but there was no way it was in a fit state for plundering.

“We need to get this blood off you. It’ll be cold but the stream is this way.” Ignis didn’t protest as Gladio guided him to his feet. He swayed a little but Gladio steadied him easily, not having to hide his worried frown.   
“Ten metres this way... There you go, sit down here. I’ll get you a rag.”

What was left of Gladio’s kingsglaive t-shirt was given over to a wash cloth, dabbing at the dried blood on his arms and face as Ignis hissed against the cold under his breath. “This’ll wake you up at least,” Gladio said with false cheer. “You need to stay awake for a while.”  
“Yes,” Ignis said, his voice dry.   
“Yes what?”  
“Yes… Gladio?”  
“Good. Least I know you can recall my name. There… don’t think we’re doing any better than that. We’ll do the rest tomorrow.”  
“I can do it myself.”  
“I don’t doubt that,” Gladio said, shaking his head. A part of him was relieved Ignis was speaking in his usual measured tone, a part of him was well aware of the strain that had fallen on them now the object of their life-long focus was lost. Noctis had told them plainly that their job wasn’t over but it had changed beyond all recognition. They were still working out how.

They were a mess together, but it would have been far worse apart.

“There’s some stew left. You should finish it,” Gladio suggested as he lead Ignis back to the camp. “I’m gonna check on Prompto.”  
Ignis remained silent but he took the offered bowl, holding it tight. Gladio glanced back at him as he got to Noctis’ tent but Ignis remained still. He sighed softly as he pushed open the tent flap.

***  
Gladio expected the gentle sobbing. His manner was subdued as he moved carefully to his brother and his king. He moved to sit on the floor, getting down to Prompto’s level, well aware he could be, had been, imposing.

“Hey… Prompto, can we talk a moment?” His voice was gentle as he could make it. Some of it was shame but more of it was care. His desire to protect, to be the strong one, was powerful.   
Prompto dragged his arm over his eyes and nodded. “I just… I never would have. I never would have just… given up on him.”

“I know. I know, Prompto. We always knew that about you. We wouldn’t have either and… they knew it. His dad. My dad. They knew how we felt because they felt the same.” Gladio was certain, the more he thought about it the more he realised it could only have gone one way. “They loved him, us, too much to throw him away for anything less than everything.” 

He didn’t want to overwhelm the other, gave him a moment to take his words in and make up his mind in them.  
Prompto lay a hand on Noctis’ arm, through his shroud. “He should have known. He should have gotten to choose.” There was a stubbornness in his tone. It was grief, still grief, and it was a damn hard thing to understand.  
“He did get to choose… in the end,” Gladio said. “He chose us. He chose the world. Ignis… was right. He needed a reason. We were naive. I’m ashamed of how naive we were but I can’t think of a second of it I regret. Not until… not until Altissia.” That was the moment they stopped living on their own terms. The moment the losses hammered them right in the face. He’d had years to find that realisation in all the moments behind them. “Prompto… however crap this is… I can’t be sorry that I didn’t know. Would have been about what we wanted then. Would have been a dirge.”

The last shield lowered his head. Prompto took up the thread beside him. “This… this is the best outcome, isn’t it.” Prompto’s voice was hushed by pain. “The good ending.”  
“He wants a future for us, full of light and… yeah. This is the best it could get.”   
Prompto nodded, taking back his hand. “How’s Ignis?”  
“A bit rough. Gonna need to watch him tonight. Will you… help me?”  
Prompto’s eyes shifted to the size, to meet Gladio’s. “Sure. Noct’ll be okay for a while. We should… talk to Ignis too.”  
“Sure, let’s wait for his head to stop spinning first.”  
“Good idea,” Prompto said, climbing to his feet.   
Gladio headed back to the tent flap but paused when he realised Prompto wasn’t following him.

“Something up,” Gladio asked, tone carefully light.  
“I think… I know where we should put him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party begins the slow process of looking forwards but, first, a king must be honoured.

“It’s a good idea, Prompto,” Ignis said, nodding slowly. 

“You… you really think so?” 

“I do.”

Ignis had laid his bowl in the ground beside him, untouched. He looked like he could easily fall asleep where he sat, but he didn’t fall. His head tilted a little to one side but his back was carefully straight, elegant under the hastily-made bandages.

Prompto shifted his weight back and forth a little, partly in relief, partly because he couldn’t quite believe how easily Ignis had accepted his suggestion.

“It’s not really traditional or anything.” Prompto hung back, hesitant.

“Noctis wasn’t really a traditional kind of king,” Ignis said, his voice weary and tinged with sadness. “What you suggest is… far more fitting than any mausoleum or stately column. I think it is- no, I won’t say it’s what he would have wanted. None of this is what he would have wanted but it is… _him._ ”

Prompto nodded, then cleared his throat to add, “Do you mind if we join you for a while? Gladio says you shouldn’t be alone. I agree with him.”

Ignis nodded slowly. “I’d like that,” he said.  
“You’ll change your mind when I start nagging you about food,” Gladio said, picking up Ignis’ bowl and kneeling before him, leaning close. “I know you lost what you had. Do you still feel sick?”  
Ignis shook his head. “I’m simply not hungry.”  
“Would you accept that answer from me?” Gladio challenged.  
The look on Ignis’ face told him everything. He held out his hands for the bowl. Satisfied, Gladio sat back.  
As he ate, slowly, Ignis turned his attention to Prompto. “Please, describe your vision for the monument,” he said. “Gladio may be able to sketch it.”

Prompto’s face lit up at the invitation. “I’m thinking maybe alabaster? Oh, and wire. Gladio, you should get this down.”

“You’re the boss.”

***  
Gladio shoved a canvas bag into the back of his borrowed car. “If anything happens like last night, you radio me, alright?”

“You got it,” Prompto said, watching Gladio pack his meager belongings. Ignis had settled well enough after he’d been brought back to the camp but the realisations he’d made were shattering. It was not a matter resolved by simply sleeping on it. 

“I expect to be back by nightfall. I’ll pick up some supplies in town. Bandages, food, batteries are already on the list. Need anything else?”  
“Paper?” Prompto said shyly. “You know. For drawing.” It didn’t sound important against the other items on the list but Gladio didn’t hesitate to agree.  
“Paper it is. Keep an eye on the others, okay? I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Have a safe trip,” Prompto called after Gladio. Part of him wished he was going with him. The atmosphere in camp was still heavy with grief, a great deal of it belonging to Prompto. Action was the only thing that soothed it. With nothing to fight and no real jobs to do around camp Prompto dreaded being left to his thoughts.

He figured it was just as bad for Ignis which is why he found himself heading for the creek. 

“Did you ask for the paper?” Ignis asked as he rinsed the breakfast bowls in the fresh water. Prompto at long since stopped being surprised at Ignis’ ability to pick up on where people were, on the fact that Gladio had left.

“Sure did,” the blond said, settling on a nearby rock. “Need a hand?” he offered politely.  
“Not with this,” Ignis said, expertly picking the bowls clean. “I have another matter to attend to. I’d appreciate your assistance with that.”

Prompto sat quietly for a moment, watched Ignis work, the promise of a useful task helping him focus. He didn’t care if it was busywork, he’d take it. “You got it. How’s your head this morning?” He asked both because he cared and because there’d been too much silence since the Citadel.

“It… is much like the hangover’s I would come home with on those evenings when Gladio insisted I ‘let my hair down.’ I would point out I never had as much hair as he did but that didn’t put him off. I… appreciated his persistence, on occasion.”

There was a reassuring warmth in Ignis’ voice as he remembered. It drew Prompto in. He picked up the thread of conversation. “I remember… the day I was inducted into the Crown’s Guard. Well… I remember _some_ of the day I was inducted into the Crown’s Guard. Gladio pressed this glass into my hands. It was cold and full of something green. He told me that it wouldn’t be official till I drained the glass. It tasted like fridge cleaner! Burned like fire. I felt like I was gonna choke on it. Thought it was a joke but... I wanted to impress them. Prove I was good enough.”

“An understandable desire,” Ignis nodded. “Drunken loutishness is certainly a language they understood.” There was no heat in Ignis’ assessment. It was impossible when he realised that most of those spirited young men and women had been lost. They’d made their attempts to push him, to mould him into someone more outgoing but they’d given up quickly, realising a lost cause when they saw one.

Ignis missed them. Every one.

“I wasn’t so much louty as… vomity,” Prompto continued. “They were laughing, though, so I guess _they_ had a good night and so there’s that right? Giving them a good night wouldn’t hurt my chances.”

“It didn’t,” Ignis said kindly. “You have conducted yourself with honour. His Majesty would have been proud. I know his son was... You were a fine addition to the Crowns Guard and I hope you never doubted that.”

They were both very aware of the realisations from the night before. Being a good crowns guard could end up being a nightmare position but being anything else was unthinkable. It had never just been a job to Ignis, Gladio nor Prompto. Their devotion had come from friendship, warm regard and, over time, love.

“Actually, yeah, at first, but I figured if even Gladio was impressed I wasn’t doing too bad.”

“Gladio does offer a good reference point. He never offers a compliment he doesn’t mean,” Ignis said with certainty. He was doing a fine impersonation of his younger self, calm and clear of mind. Unaffected. Prompto didn’t take it as him trying to lie, only trying to cope.

“I took the compliment. Needed all the encouragement I could get.” Prompto could still see all of it, the light on the marble walls, his fellows in various states of sobriety. They would always carry their lost home with them, their curse and their privilege. 

He wondered if a day would come when it would help to talk about it.

Ignis gathered up their breakfast things and held them out to Prompto. “Could you please? I need to find my scissors.”  
“Sure,” Prompto said, taking the dishes and preceding Ignis back to camp. Ignis had taken to keeping their kitchen-related supplies in a canvas bag. It was light and could be closed easily so there was no chance of small items tumbling aside unseen. It was here that Prompto deposited the handful of plates and cups, trying to arrange everything carefully so Ignis could find things when he went to use them again. Prompto had learned to be neat with his things in deference to his friend ; and because Gladio had threatened to pummel him in the early days if Ignis fell over any of his junk.

“I’m hoping it won’t take very long,” Ignis said behind him, scissors in hand. Prompto got to his feel, unsurprised Ignis had been able to find him on the patch of grass by their campfire.  
“Just so you know, you’re being pretty menacing right now,” Prompto said, unable to make his tone as light as he wished but he did earn a tiny smile from Ignis.

“Nothing menacing. I just need your help in locating a certain flower. I… am uncertain if any survived the night but there is a chance. Tell me, is the terrain around us, what state is it in?”

“Mostly undisturbed,” Prompto confirmed. “I don’t think many hunters came out this way. We’re not close to any settlements.” The land around, and between, towns had seen a lot of conflict as hunters took on demons with flamethrowers, rifles and anything else they could find up to and including heavy vehicle. Much of it had gone to mud, churned up and useless.

The more secluded areas remained largely untouched. There were fewer wildflowers and the confused trees had taken to dropping their leaves at random times, some red and yellow, some sticks, most green but the terrain looked much as it always had otherwise. Prompto conveyed all of this to Ignis who nodded slowly.

“Then we may be in luck. Are you familiar with _leo spiritus est scriptor_?”

Prompto cocked his head automatically. “I dunno. Try it in English and we’ll see.”

“You might know it as Lion’s breath.”

“Hmmm, I might not too. What’s it look like?”

“It’s a small white flower with a fine blue line around the edges of its petals.”

Prompto moved closer to Ingis in preparation for setting off. “Sounds pretty. I’ll keep a close eye out. Which way do you want to try first?”

Ignis listened for a moment before turning towards the creek. “They favour damp conditions. If they are here it will be close to the water.”

“Alright, one more question. What’s special about these leo spur- lion’s breath?” His real question was ‘how do they relate to Noctis?’ because he had no doubt that they did.

Ignis made his careful way to the creek beside Prompto, accepting verbal corrections but not needing to be lead. “When he was small Noctis had a bowl and a cup. He broke the bowl in a tantrum but the cup lasted all the way to his seventh birthday party. They’d been a gift, he’d had them since before I met him and no one had been able to replace them when they broke. He simply had to do without, which happens. He took it rather well, I remember thinking at the time, but he was also sad to lose them.

I never did find anything else like them but they were covered in these flowers, lion’s breath. When were were here, ten years ago, I remember seeing them. It was hardly fitting to present them to him then.” Ignis kept his voice level as he said. “Perhaps now… it would be right.”

Prompto wiped his wrist across his eyes. “If they’re still here, we’ll find ‘em,” he promised.

***  
The drive to Hammerhead was slow. Now they could move it seemed everyone was doing so at once. Gladio wanted to get done what he’d came to do but, at the same time, he wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t lose his temper at the slow progress. He stopped to help an older couple who had lost part of their load. He got soup from a roadside stall at Longwythe, one of many that seemed to have sprung up in the few days since the sun rose.  
As he ate he couldn’t miss snatches of conversation. 

“I heard there was a monster in the old Citadel.”

“My brother said there was an explosion arranged by the Empire.”

“... The prince just flew up into the sky and vanished.”

Gladio ate as quickly as he could and got back in the car. Surrounded by people who had no idea what Noctis had done was beyond isolating, it was galling. It had to be changed but Gladio knew where that had to start.

Gladio’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he finally turned into Hammerhead, under the late morning sun. It had changed a great deal from the welcome garage they’d rolled into ten years before. It had become a desperate bastion in the dark, armoured and bristling with defiance.

Despite his travelling over the dark years it had become home, as much as anything could be. Still, he’d forgotten the true colours of its walls. 

The desire to pull away was strong. The ache off loss still seemed too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that selfish. They’d loved Noct too. Unlike the civilians of Longwythe they understood, or they soon would.

“Looks like we got some talking to do,” a familiar voice said from Gladio’s right. There was look of fear in Cindy’s eyes. It was clear that Gladio coming alone was a bad sign but how bad she could only guess. It was a look he’d seen in her eyes once or twice before, when a hunter had failed to check in. Then, as now, he had no real comfort for her. He walked close beside her because, if he was to be honest, they both needed the support. 

Hunters still moved around them, cleaning up, trying to set the roadstop back how it once was, more or less. The two knifed through them as if they weren’t there, moving to the one place left that was just Cindy’s.

Of course Iris was waiting in Cindy’s garage, knowing that was the first place Gladio would make his way to when he came looking for civilisation. 

Iris was strong and stunning at 25. A confident woman, older than Gladio had been when he’d first taken to the road yet it had taken a long time for him to stop seeing her as a kid. It had only been a few days since Gladio had left her last but, in the meantime, the world had changed forever. 

He could see the same fear in her eyes as he walked in alone. At least there would be some small comfort in his news, that only Noct was lost.

Gladio had yet to meet Iris’ eyes though he saw her hands wringing in front of her waist. His cheekbones felt too sharp under his skin as if it was suddenly too thin. He knew it was years of having to prove her dignity that was all that held her back. When he opened his arms they both knew, they both decided to hang it.

“No!” Iris choked out, reading Gladio’s face correctly. She ran the short distance to his arms, burying her face in his chest as she had as a little girl. Cindy was able to hold in her exclamations but not her tears as her hand made it’s way to Iris’ back, her other to Gladio’s.  
“Oh honey,” she said softly though Gladio didn’t know if she meant him or Noctis. 

“Why didn’t you- how?” 

Gladio forgave her her accusation in her pain and shock. He knew she was right. It was his job to protect the king and yet they’d come back with only a body, small and wasting.

“It was… something only he could do,” Gladio said, gently as he could. His voice felt brittle, not up to the task, but there was no one else to say it. “He’s… Ignis and Prompto are still with him. We’ve found a place… to put him. A place that’s right for him.” 

As Gladio grew calmer Iris grew more heated, denial giving way to anger. “Here is the place that’s right for him! He should be here… he should be-” Gladio just held her, closing an arm around Cindy too. Loyal, steadfast, Cindy who had been a rock in the dark, now at a loss in the morning light.

“I want you both to come with me,” he said softly. “I want you there when we- lay him to rest.”  
“You know I wouldn’t be anywhere else, sugar,” Cindy said, her tone determined.

Iris took a moment longer to answer, when she did it was with just a nod. Gladio let her lean into him as long as she needed to. They’d both known grief before but there was something definitive about this death, a thick black line between all the knew and where they stood that made everyone they’d lost feel further away. They were no longer servants of the Crown. They were only leftovers of a bygone age, still raw from the loss.

Gladio looked down at Cindy and asked, “Do you know any sculptors? We have a commission.”


End file.
